


Hold Your Color

by Kittenly



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Fallout - Fandom, Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Case Fic, Darling is a gunslinger, Gen, Hancock is a teifling arcane trickster, There's UST if you want there to be, Wrote this for a dnd game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 19:05:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11447151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittenly/pseuds/Kittenly
Summary: “You know, I mighta heard something,” said Hancock after I finished talking. He swirled his tankard thoughtfully. “Just a rumor--nothing concrete.”He paused and gave me an expectant look. Gods, what a greedy bastard. I pulled out the purse Boulder and Willow had given me and flipped him a gold piece. He caught it mid air and palmed it so quick even I couldn’t follow. Satisfied, he leaned in over the table. I leaned in to meet him so we were just inches apart, which I’m sure, scientifically speaking, is the ideal distance for conspiratorial whispering.“A few of my birdies been seein’ people go into that old temple of Eldath up in the Church Quarter. But funny folk--kids mostly, a few women and fewer men. They don’t come back.”





	Hold Your Color

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to play my Fallout Sole Survivor in a DND adventure my friends were running, and I wrote this out of the setting. But of course, I can't have Darling without Hancock, so he had to be included.

There are many advantages to a subterranean workshop. Acoustics ain’t one of them.

The roar of my furnace had blocked out what I’m sure was a dramatic pounding at my door, so I didn’t know I had a prospective client until I heard my bell ring and then crunch.

Gods damn it, that was the third one this month.

So I was annoyed when I pulled myself out of my workshop into to my office. I looked down at the counter that kept clients from wandering into my bedroom (the distinction between bedroom and office is...poorly defined.) Indeed, my spring bell was crushed into the wood, metal bent and useless.

“Can I help you?” I asked, giving them a quick glance over. There were two men. One was short and squat and built more like a hobgoblin than a human, and looked about as bright.  The other could have been an elf but for the full beard on his face. They were nearly comical in their contrast. Neither were well enough dressed for a prominent gang, and the faint undertone of fish suggested they’d come up from the docks. Not exactly my usual clientele, but business had been dry as tinder lately.

“You find people?” the boulder of a man asked.

I shrugged and pulled up a stool behind the counter and leaned lazily on my elbow.

“I do most things if there’s coin in it,” I said. Without hesitation, the willowy man tossed a small purse in front of me. It clinked merrily, and I poured the gold and silver onto the counter. It was nothing to sneeze at. With this, I could buy a good fraction of the material I needed for my newest prototype--and not go hungry at the same time.

“That’s up front,” Boulder said. “There’s more in it for when the job’s done.”

With a quick movement, I scooped the coins back into the purse and slipped it behind the counter.

“You have my attention,” I said, sitting up straight. “Who do you want found?”

Boulder shot a look back at Willow, who nodded. “A girl,” he said. “My little girl.”

“You know where she went?” I asked.

His face flushed. “If I knew that I wouldn’t be forkin’ over good coin to find her,” he snapped. “Her mother took her.”

“You know why?”

Another glance back at Willow. Huh. Interesting. “She’s one of those, ya know...mystery cult people. Got into the stuff recently. I’m worried about both of them, but my girl most of all.”

I sympathized. Religion in this city was a strange beast, and those who got too caught up in it turned strange themselves. Seeing a lover, and then a child start to fall in that direction was plenty cause for worry.

And Boulder was certainly worried. I could smell as much, mixed in with the fish. Charming. There was just one more question to answer before I got started.

“You know,” I said. “There are plenty of folks who can find people a whole lot easier than me. Plenty of arcanists out there who specialize, in fact.”

Boulder didn’t seem to know what to say to that. He stared at me for a long moment before Willow stepped forward. “Name me an arcanist who’s not bought and paid for by the powers that be,” he said. “Word gets around: you’re neutral ground.”

Funny man, Willow. Hard to get a read on. But he wasn’t wrong. Show enough magical power and someone’ll snap you up and make you their pet wizard. Wasn’t a problem for me. A distinct lack of magical talent left me uninteresting enough for the current of the underworld to flow right on by me. And even now that people had started to take notice, I’d made it clear than I was more valuable as a free agent than any street-lord’s attack dog.

“As long as you pay me, I guess I don’t care much what your reasons are,” I said with another shrug. “So. Give me the details.”

* * *

 

Day or night, the _Lazy Servant_ always seemed to be filled to the brim. Loud, jovial voices and the constant clatter of tankards being filled masked the constant exchange of bargains of dubious legality. In one smoky corner, a teifling held court, captivating small crowd with tales of his smuggling exploits. When he saw me, a wide, toothy grin split his face.

“Story’s over boys, I’ve got business to attend to,” he said, then, impressively, his grin grew. “Unless you’re here for pleasure?”

I snorted. “Business, as always, Hancock. Got a pretty job that came knocking on my door.”

If my brush off phased him, he didn’t show it. “And you came to me first,” he said. “I’m flattered, Darling.”

I couldn’t help grin myself. Hancock’s as slippery as an oiled fish, even by smugglers’ standards. Despite that, I’d known him long enough to have learned that he was good people. And I wasn’t the only one who liked him. Maybe it’s the infernal charm, but people tend to just spill all sorts of interesting tidbits in his ear.

He bought me a drink and I told him what I was looking for--a mother and a daughter, from the docks as best I could figure. Only direction we knew was that the mom was probably getting into mystery cult shit.

“You know, I mighta heard something,” said Hancock after I finished talking. He swirled his tankard thoughtfully. “Just a rumor--nothing concrete.”

He paused and gave me an expectant look. Gods, what a greedy bastard. I pulled out the purse Boulder and Willow had given me and flipped him a gold piece. He caught it mid air and palmed it so quick even I couldn’t follow. Satisfied, he leaned in over the table. I leaned in to meet him so we were just inches apart, which I’m sure, scientifically speaking, is the ideal distance for conspiratorial whispering.

“A few of my birdies been seein’ people go into that old temple of Eldath up in the Church Quarter. But funny folk--kids mostly, a few women and fewer men. They don’t come back.”

That was odd. Most of the temples in the area were abandoned ruins, Eldath’s included. Few mystery cults had their own temples and mostly just squatted around the quarter. I hadn’t heard of anyone in that particular temple.

“Eldath huh?” I said thoughtfully. “Only one I know who still ‘worships’ her is that fake cleric, Hopesinger. And she don’t even work the quarter.” Shocking I know, but peace, life, and nature weren’t terribly popular domains of worship in this city. Squalor and chaos tends to wring the faith right out of you.

“Dunno what more to tell you,” he said. “But whoever they are, they’re playing with fire if their misusing that old rubble heap. The whole place may be crumbling around their ears, but it was once a proper temple, and that kind of old magic don’t just go away.”

“It just sleeps. And not always soundly,” I said. I wasn’t sure how that might affect any operations, mine included. And the fact that I couldn’t be sure annoyed the hell out of me. I must have been making a face, ‘cause Hancock laughed.

“You look like someone just pissed in your beer,” he said. “Not that we’d really notice with this swill. Whatcha thinking ‘bout?”

“Magic. It makes things so much more--”

“Exciting? Thrilling? Exhilarating?”

“Those all mean the same thing,” I said absently while trying to pick out the right word. “Inconvenient.”

“Someone jealous?” he asked. A little candle sized flame appeared on his finger.

“Hardly,” I said and dumped the remainder of my beer over his hand, immediately dousing the little flame. I’d have felt bad if every surface in this place weren’t already sticky. As it was, I doubt I made anything noticeably worse.

“You’re no fun at all,” said Hancock, though his smile never faltered.

“Don’t lie to yourself. You think I’m loads of fun.”

“Fine, fine.” He towelled off his hand. A second later, my gold coin reappeared as he rolled it across his knuckles. “One thing still bothers me.”

“Oh?”

He took a thoughtful drink from his tankard. “I ain’t never heard nor seen this duo you described. Boulder and Willow. And I know anyone who’s crooked down at the docks.”

“Maybe they’re just folks,” I said. More to voice an alternative than to disagree.

“No one from the docks are ‘just folks.’ And if they were, why wouldn’t they go to the watch for help?”

And this was the reason I liked Hancock so much. Every charlatan had charisma and charm, but Hancock’s brain was as sharp as the multitude of knives hidden on his person.

“They said I was ‘neutral ground,’” I mused. “I assumed they just didn’t want to end up owing any gang a favor.”

“It’s not a bad assumption.”

“But not the only possible explanation,” I said, continuing the thought.

“Well, we’ll know when we get there,” said Hancock, slamming his tankard down with a sense of finality.

“Wait, ‘we?’ I said nothing about ‘we,’” I said. I don’t like team ups unless we’ve all been hired together. Otherwise the boundaries of relationships tend to blur, and I ain’t comfortable unless I know exactly where I stand with people. Hancock was a source, and sometimes a sounding board, but bring him on the actual investigating and things could get...complicated. Not the least because he more or less owed his loyalty to the Reds, and I wanted to stay out of that tangle of thorns.

“I’m coming with, obviously. Don’t be dumb, Darling--it’s a bad look on you.”

“You’re gonna keep your infernal ass planted right there, is what you’re gonna do.”

He was already rising. “Something seems fishy, and it ain’t the lingering dock smell. Going in alone is a good way to get yourself killed, and I would find this town so dull without you.”

I stood up after him. He only had a little height on me, and so I could glare him right in the eye.

“You tagging along is a good way to get me to owe you,” I pointed out. “And more importantly, owe your boss. I ain’t putting myself in that position.”

“This ain’t about work,” Hancock tried to insist. “Reds don’t need to be involved. I ain’t trying to get anything out of you but hopefully your continued existence.”

I sighed and pressed a gloved fist against my head. “You’re just going to follow me when I leave regardless, aren’t you.”

“Yes.”

Hancock’s sentimentality was going to get him killed someday. But fine. If I had to resign myself to a partner, we were going to do it my way. I reached into my pack and drew out a strip of parchment, a quill, and a tiny inkwell.

“What in the nine hells are you doing?”

“You want to come, we ain’t leaving ‘til you sign.”

I finished scrawling out the contract and handed it to him.

“You know, Darling, sometimes I almost forget you’re a fucking blue blood and then you pull shit like this.”

“I’m not owing you,” I said flatly. “If you come, you come full well knowing that no payment, in money or services, is promised.”

He gave an exasperated sigh, but signed the bottom. I drew a silver dagger from my sleeve and sliced off a little chunk of a nearby candle. I held it over the flame. When it was soft, I stuck it to the contract next to Hancock’s name and pressed my signet ring into it. A tiny winged serpent glared up at me from the wax.

“All right,” I said. “Let’s go.”

* * *

 

No one bothered us, guard or gang, as we made our way to the Church Quarter. I expect Hancock was to thank for that. I knew of a grand total of one teifling in this whole city, and while _I_ knew he had a soft side, the world at large only the knew that he was smart and fast and vicious in a fight.

Hancock and I bantered as we walked, taking pleasure in the good natured verbal sparring. We got quieter the closer we got. Stars and stones, the Church Quarter was depressing. No one would disagree if you said this whole damn city was mad, but the Church Quarter was on a different level entirely.

Even though dusk was falling fast as a stone over the walls, the truth seekers still wandered as if it were noon. Many mumbled to themselves, listening to prophecies only they could hear. Every once in awhile, a loud, hoarse voice shrieked a prophecy to the uncaring sky.

Eldath’s temple ain’t far into the district, and we arrived just before true darkness fell. To call it a shitpile would be generous. The only thing that looked even vaguely temple-y was the keystone archway that had once been the entrance. Once upon a time, it looked like it had been decorated with a gem mosaic of Eldath’s waterfall. But anything of value or color had been pried out of its holding, leaving only a pockmarked impression behind.

“I think the fact that this arch is still standing is a sign of divine intervention,” I said.

“Like I said, there’s old magic still here,” said Hancock. “We going in?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. I want to get a feel for if the traffic in the area,” I said. “See if anyone comes in or out.”

A moment of silence followed my statement, then Hancock said in a low voice, “There’s a kid in there.”

“And the more we know, the better chance we have of getting them out.” I walked across the road to a row of empty stalls that may have been shops or shrines. I settled myself down out of sight of passersby and pulled my spyglass from my pocket. Hancock joined me with obvious irritation.

He took one look the spyglass and said, “Darling, you can’t see in the dark.”

I ignored him and took something else out of my pocket. He watched me skeptically as I unscrewed the lens and replaced it with the one I had just drawn out. This one was a bottle green piece of glass, not that you could tell in the gathering dark. Once replaced, I looked through the spyglass and vague dark shapes across the way lit up in stark gray scale.

“I can’t see in the dark _unassisted_ ,” I corrected him.

I could hear him smiling despite himself when he spoke. “Always knew you were clever.”

We watched the entrance for a good two hours, but even between my spyglass and Hancock’s natural dark vision, we didn’t see anyone even cough in the temple’s direction. I’d have felt _less_ uncomfortable if we had seen people moving in and out. As it was, all we could do was try and slip in unnoticed and see what there was to see.

The archway loomed as we approached, the deep shadows of night giving it an ominous, imposing air. A stark contrast to the rather pathetic one it had in the light. On some unconscious instinct, Hancock and I stopped just short.

“You feel that?” said Hancock, just above a whisper.

“No,” I said. Not a lick of magical talent, remember.

“Then why’d you stop?”

“I don’t know.” It was an honest answer. The longer I was in this town, the more I figured out to trust my instincts. Especially when it came to magic.

I could only vaguely make out Hancock’s form beside me, so I couldn’t read the look he wore, but he was definitely looking at me. I ain’t a fan of being stared at, especially when I can’t stare back with any effect, so I walked through the arch. Nothing happened.

Hancock walked in a pace behind me, but as he crossed under the keystone, he shuddered.

“Ugh,” he said, shaking himself.

“Everything alright?”

“Feels like I was sprinkled with acid,” he said. “Barely enough to notice, but still ain’t pleasant.”

“Huh,” I said absently. I was distracted. Despite the temple being open to the sky and most of the walls barely reaching my chest, the quality of light in here seemed different. I could pick out edges and outlines a little better. Well, better get to work.

“You got a light? For your poor human friend?”

Hancock’s sigh was far more put upon than was necessary. But he held out his hand and a small palmful of orange flames appeared, giving a dim glow around the ruin.

“What are we looking for?” he asked.

“I’ll know it when I see it,” I said.  

“So helpful.”

For caution’s sake, I drew _Last Word_ and checked her chamber. Six steel caps, ready to go, and more in every pocket, including a small leather pouch stitched to the strap of the holster. In there were six silver plated bullets, for anything truly nasty.

In the faint firelight, I started my search. It ain’t actually a bad thing to not know what you’re looking for at the beginning of an investigation, because it makes you see everything, not just what you’re expecting.

Which was a good thing because I was not expecting live traps.

There were a few footprints in the dust, and I was trying to follow their general direction when the toe of my boot knocked against a slightly raised tile. Normally I wouldn’t have thought anything of it in such a wreck, but I took a look anyway.

“Bring that light closer,” I said. Hancock crouched by me.

Yeah, there was no mistaking it for anything but a pressure plate.

“That’s unexpected,” said Hancock. “Hold still, I’ll take care of it.”

He extinguished the flame and after the light, I was blind as all fuck.

“If you trigger that thing and I get stuck full of poison darts, you’re banned from all future field trips.”

“Have a little faith, Darling,” he said. I could hear him pulling out tools of some kind.

“I don’t do faith,” I said, and obstinately remained tense as a twisted spring. Every little click and clink as Hancock messed around sent my heart pounding as I expected the worst. At least, there was a heavy clunk, and Hancock gave a self satisfied laugh.

“See, ain’t ya glad you brought me now?” he said and rekindled the handful of flames.

I made a noncommittal grunt. But in truth, I _was_ glad to have him along. He just didn’t need to know that. He might get it in his head to come along more often, and I wanted it to remain clear that this was a one time thing.

Now that we were on a trail, we managed to follow the faint trail of prints through the rubble, avoiding or disarming a few traps as we went. They snaked through the ruins until suddenly, they just vanished. Immediately, Hancock and I crouched down and started looking for the hidden entrance. Between the two of us, we managed to find the switch buried under a little pile of stones that looked a little too intentional to completely blend in with the rest of the mess.

Hancock tripped the switch. The stone beneath me started to slide and I stumbled straight into him as the trapdoor slid open. We managed to not fall over but our heads smacked together. Thankfully, Hancock’s horns can only be described as “nubby,” so at least I wasn’t skewered.

“And people tell me _I_ have a hard head,” he muttered.

I ignored him. Damn, we hadn’t even been able to see the seam. Whoever made this wanted it to stay a secret. A deep spiral of stone stairs led down, lost in shadow despite the firelight.

“Well,” I said. “Nothing like a dramatic entrance.”

“Ha. Ladies first?” said Hancock, looking down the stairwell suspiciously.

“Nah. Light boy first.”

He glared, but finally sighed. He made a gesture across his body and said a word I couldn’t quite make out. A shimmer of blue light fell across him like a veil and then was gone. We started down. The moment my head dipped below ground level, there was the terrible grinding of stone on stone and the trap door slide back into place.

Hancock and I stood perfectly still, waiting for something to happen. Nothing, just the silent dance of fire shadows and a faint dripping that I could have easily been imagining. Something about the stark stillness hit something deep in me and I felt like the walls were drifting in on me. I spun, a little too fast. I’ve had problems with my right knee for years--it seems like I can’t go a year without hurting it, and by this point it’s just a fact of life. I heard a little pop and I wobbled, nearly braining myself on the stone wall.

Ow.

I did what clerics and physicians kept telling me not to do, and ignored the pain, scrambling back to the trap door. I could find no mechanism on this side, and so the stone stayed like a great coffin lid.

“No, no, no,” I heard myself saying over and over as I tried and retried to find any way to get back out. A moment later, a hand fell on my back and warmth flooded through me, driving off the frigid panic.

“Darling,” Hancock said. “Come back.”

I was about turn around and give an affable response when I figured out what was going on.

“You charmed me,” I said, though I couldn’t find it in me to be upset. Damn, he was good.

“Just for a moment. Panic is deadly in our line of work. What’s wrong?”

Well, if I was charmed, might as well put it to good use. I found I could talk without the fear overwhelming me. In this state we could figure out a course of action for when the spell wore off.

“I don’t like being closed in. Tight spaces, or places I can’t figure how to get free from-- they make something in my brain turn into a desperate animal. All I can think of is getting out.”

“That much is clear,” said Hancock. He took a look around the trap door, but couldn’t find anything either. After a moment of looking, he turned back to me.

“Going up ain’t an option. Looks like this is a one-way ride.”

“So down we go.”

Hancock nodded. “I’ll try and make it so the charm wears off easy. But we don’t know what we’ll find down there. I can’t spare more spells keeping you calm.”

“I’ll be fine,” knowing my confidence was not my own. But it’s not like I had much choice in the matter.

“I’ll be right here,” he said with uncharacteristic seriousness. “You need to hold on to something, hold onto me.”

“I ain’t a damsel in distress,” I said, disgusted at the notion. “C’mon.” I nudged him with the butt of _Last Word_  and we started making our way down the passage. Like he’d warned, the charm started to fade in a few moments. I first noticed it my my heart picking up, but after a few more steps, a knot in my chest was starting to form again. I had to gulp down air.

“Fucking noble pride,” Hancock snarled. He must have heard me, and the rest of this subterranean nightmare world probably did too. He stopped, and snatched my free hand with his. I tried to pull away, but his grip just tightened.

“Squeeze,” he ordered. “I need you sharp.”

I hated to admit it, but the pressure kept me grounded and the panic at bay. I tried to focus on that. Not on feeling like a child clutching Nurse’s hand ‘cause she’s scared.

I soon lost track how far we’d gone down in the spiral. The methodical padding of our boots on the stone was hypnotizing. So I almost ran into Hancock when he stopped short. I peered around him--awkward as I had to lean over the line of our still clasped hands. I didn’t see nothing but more stairs.

“You hear that?” he whispered.

I strained my ears. There, a slight rushing sound. I’d thought it was just blood pumping through my ears, but no. This definitely had an external source.

“Sounds like water,” I said. “You know of any hidden coves or caves in this quarter?”

“No,” he said. “Don’t mean there aren’t though. Smugglers are tight lipped bastards, and this would be one hell of find.”

“Yeah. Smugglers are the absolute worst,” I said. “Can’t stand working with them.”

Hancock shot me a grin over his shoulder. “I dunno,” he said. “Gotta say, detectives are pretty shit. Especially the ones who are also stubborn noble pricks.”

The roaring grew louder and in less than a minute, the stairs stopped. A low hallway continued out, and at the end, another arch stood. Like the one above ground, this one had the waterfall of Eldath on its keystone. Only all the gems were still in this one. They gleamed like fire opals in Hancock’s handful of firelight.

For the first time I really considered Eldath and her waterfall. I try to avoid thinking about gods at all as a rule, but I realized I’d never thought of Eldath as much more than a joke. But though a waterfall might be used as an idyllic cliche, in reality they were powerful, loud, and they could be very, very dangerous. As Hancock and I stopped once more before her arch, shoulder to shoulder, I wondered if perhaps Eldath was similarly mischaracterized.

I took a step, and passed under. I hadn’t been able to tell in the dim light, but a fine sheet of water ran through the archway--not enough to soak me, but enough to wake me up good and proper. When I was through, I looked back at Hancock. He eyed the nearly invisible curtain of water anxiously. Gingerly, he lifted one black-nailed finger and touched the water. He didn’t recoil, which was a good sign.

His light went out as he stepped through the water, and I was plunged into blackness. A few heart pounding seconds later, it reappeared along with Hancock. Other than being a bit damper than before, he seemed no worse for wear.

It seemed like this was a secret cove after all. The air was rich with brine and waves slapped against the rocks. Odd place for a mystery cult. I was about to ask Hancock if he was alright when I heard a small voice, quickly followed by hasty shushing.

We walked in the direction of the voices. It was slow going, picking over the barnacle encrusted rocks. My knee complained about the slippery footing, but I continued to ignore it. Over one final boulder and we found them.

Mom looked the cultist part. Her curly dark hair was stiff with salt and stuck out all over her head. The girl was her mother in miniature, but her hair was tamed, just barely, in a braid. Both wore stained cloaks and looked near starved, especially the girl. How long had they been down here?

“S-stay away,” the woman said as we approached, clutching the girl to her chest. “You won’t take us back.”

“Take it easy,” I said in a low voice. I motioned for Hancock to stay back. I doubted a close up of a teifling was gonna help calm them at this point.

“I said, stay away!” She thrust her hand out toward me. I could barely make it out in the light, but she had blue tattoos around her wrists, and ankles. I looked at the girl. Same thing.

“Hancock,” I called back. “They’re slaves.”

“What?” he said, bringing the fire closer. There, a tattoo ring was around their necks too. “Nine hells…” He must’ve seen them too.

The second she got a good eyeful of Hancock, the woman shrieked and crushed something in her hand, shouting, “Eldath of many waters, protect us!”

A glowing mist drifted out of whatever trinket she crushed, flowing over us until it started to gather behind us. I turned to face it, seeing Hancock follow suit from the corner of my eye. A stag, maybe fifteen feet tall loomed over us, glowing like a pale moon. It cried, an alien sound that rang in my ears and made my very bones vibrate.

Ah _shit_.

“Get down,” I shouted, as the creature’s form solidified and it reared back. It’s hooves may have been dainty in proportion to the rest of it, but they were as big as my head. I dove to the side, the heavy leather of my coat protecting me from the sharp sea rocks.

Stones shattered where we had been standing a moment ago. I couldn’t see Hancock, but in this context, I took that as a good sign. When I rolled to my feet, I brought _Last Word_ around and fired. Thankfully, a giant deer ain’t easy to miss, even though I was shaking from the adrenaline and residual dregs of panic. It screamed again as the bullet found its shoulder, this time in pain.

Before I could get any more shots off, it swung its mighty head around and I only just managed to avoid being disemboweled by those wicked sharp antlers. It was about to come back for a second try when Hancock burst from the shadows and embedded two daggers in its flank.

I took the opportunity to fire off two more rounds. Each hit it square, and the wounds burst with a silver fluid that looked thicker than blood. It turned to me, and I saw that it had four eyes. Two ones where you’d expect, and two smaller ones right above, like some kind of grotesque set of eyebrows. All were white and pupiless.

My gun arm started to sink as it stared me down. It’s gaze pierced me like a spear, and I could feel it looking on me like my soul was a painting one could sit and study. My limbs started to lock in place as I felt it look on my life and _judge_.

I don’t know what would have happened if Hancock hadn’t struck again, this time hamstringing one of its back legs. It bellowed in fury, but its concentration had broken. I collapsed to the ground, drained but free of its hold.

Hancock had vanished when I pulled myself back to my feet. The deer was looking for him, its nostrils flared and ears swerving back and forth. When it couldn’t find him, it stilled for a moment. Blue light, like a more powerful version of the glow it already emitted, gathered like a net in its antlers. A moment of stillness, then blue fire erupted in a sphere. I braced myself, but I didn’t feel anything as the fire washed over me. Then I looked down. The glow had stuck to me, making me shine with the same odd blue light. I looked up. Maybe fifty feet from me, I saw Hancock in the same predicament.

The stag made to gore him with its antlers, but he just managed to dive out of the way. I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

But just as he righted himself, the stag pivoted, and a kick from one of its back hooves caught Hancock square in the chest. There was a flash of blue and then his armor spell shattered in the face of the blow. He crumpled like a sack of sawdust and didn’t move.

If I didn’t act in the next heartbeat, my friend would be mashed to pulp under the rage of the stag. I needed a shot. One it couldn’t ignore.

I knelt to the floor and took _Last Word_ in both hands. I sighted down the barrel, trying to keep my own pounding heart from throwing off the shot.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Hold.

Fire.

One of the stags eyes exploded in a fountain of thick silver liquid. It let loose its unearthly shriek and staggered back from Hancock’s still form. It turned and fixed its remaining three eyes on me. Blue fire flared around me, not hurting or restraining me, but certainly making sure the stag wouldn’t miss its next charge.

I didn’t bother moving as it galloped at me. Either I was dead or I wasn’t. I held _Last Word_ steady and waited for the right moment. Just like before except with the extra variable of the stag’s galloping movement.

A second eye exploded. But it wasn’t enough. There were two more eyes, and I only had one bullet left in the chamber.

The stag was closing fast--ten feet away and I was almost in range of those antlers. I had one shot to end this. Literally.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Hold.

Fire.

The bullet pierced the top of its lowered head and severed its spinal cord. Its whole form lost its reality and only rolling, glowing mist passed over me. In a second, the mist was gone and so was any light in the cave.

After walking through the waterfall, there was no way I was getting anything to light as a torch, so I groped through the dark towards where I hoped Hancock was. A minute or so of fruitless searching and a lantern bobbed into the chamber from the archway.

“It’s clear,” said Willow. With the bit of light, I managed to find Hancock. He was breathing. I crawled up to him and managed to rouse him. He looked up at me blearily, but when I was reasonably sure he wasn’t going to up and die on me, I hauled myself to my feet and stumbled over to Willow.

“Slaves,” I spat. “You wanted me to get some runaways back.”

Willow gave me a disinterested look. Probably figured he could blow in my direction and I’d keel over. Probably wasn’t wrong, either.

“I consider the job done,” he said. “Payment will have been delivered to your office by the time your return.”

I held _Last Word_ to his head. That made him pause. “You said nothing ‘bout slaves.”

Willow sighed and turned back to me with an impatient scowl.

“Fine,” he said. “What will it take for you to just leave now?”

I glanced over at the mother and daughter. They were small, scared things. More bone than meat and more fear than bone. I wondered who’d set up their escape. Who’d armed then with the trinket that summoned Eldath’s guardian to protect them. From the corner of my eye, I saw Hancock move, start to sit up.

“Fuck off,” he said, words slurring just a bit. “We don’t deal in slaves.”

Willow didn’t even deign to give him a look. “Surely you’re not unreasonable,” he said to me.

I had to think carefully about what I was going to do here. Willow might not know my gun was empty, but if it came to it, he’d figure out real quick.

“Double payment,” I said. I heard Hancock inhale sharply. The little girl started sniffling.

“Done,” Willow said. I let _Last Word_ fall to my side. He strode over and collected the girl and her mother. The girl started crying in earnest, but her mother stayed silent, resigned. I tried to not notice.

I walked over to Hancock, who was picking himself up. He growled at me when I tried to help.

“Stay the fuck away from me, you selfish, aristocratic bitch.”

I didn’t argue. There was another tunnel leading out of the cove with an switch on the inside that let us out by the remains of one of Eldath’s lesser shrines. As soon as we were out the tunnel, Hancock hightailed it back towards his home base without another word. I watched him go, feeling a tugging at my heart. But I couldn’t attend to that. I couldn’t doubt myself. Not now.

The office was quiet and cold when I got in. I hadn’t been around to keep the furnace lit. On my counter, where I had spoken to Willow and Boulder earlier, was a sack. I opened it. Willow had been as good as his word. It was a staggering amount of gold.

Truly a victory.

* * *

 My assorted bumps and bruises had healed up a week later, and so had Hancock’s by the look of him. I had to admit, I was surprised to see him here.

“Didn’t you call me an ‘aristocratic bitch’ and then basically say you never wanted to see me again?” I asked tiredly. I hadn’t been sleeping well the past week, and truth was, I missed Hancock’s company.

Hancock said nothing and just stared at me, eventually he decided that wasn’t weird enough and he came and leaned over the counter to stare at me closer. I tried to ignore him.

“My birdies been singing an interesting song,” he said finally. I looked up at him then. One of his horns had been broken in the fight with the spirit guardian, but other than that, he’d suffered no lasting damage. His eyes were guarded. But there wasn’t the disgust that I saw last time. That was something at least.

“What’ve they been whistlin’ in your ear?” I asked.

“They said there’re seven people floating belly up in the docks. Slavers, all of them.”

“It wasn’t me, if that’s what you’re asking,” I said honestly.

“No,” Hancock continued. “It was the Reds. I heard them talking. You wanna know why the Reds killed them?”

I shrugged. “I bet you’re gonna tell me anyway.”

“Turns out they hadn’t been paying the smuggler’s tariff. On their bananas.”

I couldn’t help it. A grin split my face.

“No trace of slaves on any of them, but their paperwork on fucking bananas wasn’t done right. Reds figure out they’re being shortchanged and then boom. All of them are made examples of.”

“Someone must’ve really had it out for them,” I said demurely. “Imagine how many piles of paperwork you’d have to dig through to find the one thing that wasn’t square.”

I felt Hancock staring at me. I still didn’t really want to look him in the face, so I pulled out a coin and practiced rolling it like Hancock did.

“How long did it take you?” he finally asked.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” I said flatly.

“Darling--”

“You don’t know who it was.”

“I wouldn’t if it weren’t for another sweet birdsong.”

I glanced up at him. I couldn’t allow this to be traced back to me.

“Oh?” I said, voice still bored even though my heart picked up.

“Yeah. There was a new hire in the mayor’s household. A lady named Miri and her little girl Eliza. Came highly recommended, with a letter of introduction from the Darling household.”

“And you think those two are connected?” I asked with a laugh.

“I know they are.”

“There’s not a damn shred connecting the two. No one’s gonna believe you.”

Hancock shook his head. “I don’t need anyone to believe me. I know. I thought you were rotten that night, just like everything else in this gods-forksaken town. And that hurt like nothing I could believe.”

I looked up into his face. “Hancock, money is the best tool in anyone’s arsenal. People ain’t gonna think twice about a mercenary attitude. Nobody says, oh, I’m so shocked that she’s a greedy bastard. They say, oh, she’s just like everybody else. Nobody second guesses your motives or your intentions. And similarly, if you want a bad guy taken out, always, always follow the money. You’ll find something eventually.”

I rose, wanting to stretch my legs. It had taken me three straight days of sifting through shipment lists and ledgers to find those bananas, and I was antsy. I grabbed my coat and Hancock followed me outside.

As we walked down the narrow street, Hancock laughed to himself, then said, “You know, Darling, I think I love you.”

I sighed and shrugged into the coat. “That’s too bad.”


End file.
